


Dead Things Piling Up Behind Us

by bladehuntress



Series: Burn Cream For Cats [4]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blanket Permission, Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary Zuko (Avatar), Poison, Poisoning, based on Muffinlance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:07:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26664901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bladehuntress/pseuds/bladehuntress
Summary: Spirit and Toph agreed never to make a list of their greatest moments, mostly because a startling number of them involved serial murder.Speaking of which.You've already heard about two. How about two more?
Relationships: Toph Beifong & Zuko
Series: Burn Cream For Cats [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1731832
Comments: 50
Kudos: 543





	1. The Fire Plays Back

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MuffinLance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MuffinLance/gifts).



Whatever Toph had been expecting upon her return to the camp, it hadn’t been this.

“—Stand down now, or _so help me,_ you will see what comes after the _afterlife!”_

Toph sighed, picking her way through the tent pegs towards the central clearing, where Spirit was facing off with a particularly stubborn general. They’d sent out the orders for a full retreat only a week ago, but they’d been forced to travel to the Earth Kingdom when General Sho had refused. And it hadn’t taken them long to deem the situation unsalvageable.

“I don’t see what you mean, Fire Lord,” Sho sniffed. “The only reason these savages are keeping back is because we’re _staying_ here. As soon as we turn, the cowards will attack from behind—”

“Or _maybe,”_ Spirit snarled, “those _savages_ are the only ones actually trying to uphold the truce here!”

 _Who knew ending a war would be so much_ work?

“Spirit,” Toph called, approaching from their right. She reached out, touched their arm, then stepped carefully around them. As soon as Spirit’s blind side was guarded, they relaxed minutely, and she heard the whisper of hair over fabric as they turned their head to face Sho fully. “I think this one’s a hopeless case.”

Spirit shrugged. “I had to try, but probably,” they agreed, turning away from the general in an obvious dismissal, and leaving him spluttering indignantly behind them as Toph led the way through the tents. “Either way, I gave the soldiers the same orders as I did on the comet. With any luck, he’ll try it anyway, and then the issue will resolve itself.”

Toph nodded. “We’re about ready, now. If we leave before midday, we might be able to make it to that town with the resort by nightfall.”

“What do you mean?” Spirit asked. “That’s only a couple of hours… _oh?”_

“His heart was _off.”_ Toph frowned, leaning closer to Spirit and lowering her voice. “It was… irregular. Just _off._ But I talked to their healer. Turns out her little brother was conscripted by Ozai, sent straight to the front — apparently the healers near Ba Sing Se kept getting killed. She’s convinced you’re the only reason he’s still alive. And I think she’d take _any_ excuse to get rid of Sho.”

Spirit laughed, delighted. “Arrhythmia. _Perfect!”_

“Aren’t I just?”

“Spirits, Toph,” Spirit shook their head, still laughing helplessly. “I missed this.”

Toph grinned, punching their elbow. “What, casual homicide? Or did you miss _me?”_

“Like fire does air!”

* * *

“Well? What’s the verdict?”

Atsuko looked solemnly at the soldiers assembled in the clearing. “He overdosed on his medicinal digitalis,” she announced. “An accident.”

 _I’m no idiot, Fire Lord,_ she thought wryly. _I know what foxglove tea tastes like, even if General Sho didn’t. But…_ She turned her face up, feeling the sunlight warm her skin against the coldness of the Earth Kingdom. _With medicines that moonlight as poisons — oh, such a fine line between life and death, and so blurry — who could prove me wrong? After all, you might have just saved us all._


	2. Bite First, Bite Often

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, we've come this far. Why not a little further?
> 
> Come on. What harm could it do?

Of all the things Miyuki had taught them, Spirit hadn’t realised that light-footedness would be the one they were most grateful for.

Flames flickered in the sconces that illuminated the hallways. The palace was always dark at night, but this was the new moon, and without Yue shining through the windows, those flames were the only source of light in the hallway. In the shadow of a corner, Spirit took a deep breath — swept their arms down and out — dimmed the flames. Now, with the problem of light taken care of, all they needed to do was stay close to the walls and quiet.

They’d heard the rumours only last week, whispers in the servants’ passages when it seemed that nobody was listening. General Damare, the whispers said, had been gathering his allies close as of late, had been solidifying his loyalties and spending his nights locked in with his most trusted, where not even the servants could walk unnoticed.

_Well, that wouldn’t do at all._

Damare had nearly been the death of them once — _had_ been the death of countless young trainees sent to die in a hopeless battle — and they’d be _damned_ if they let him have a second round.

They slipped in through the servants’ entrance, crept from the receiving room into the bedroom; once inside, they mapped the room with their eyes. The window, there. The desk, there. The bed… _there._

The rag they pulled from their pouch was soaked and sweet-smelling (something they had discovered for themselves only because the old herbalist had used it on them when they’d doubted its efficacy. They knew better, now) and carefully, carefully, _ever so gently,_ like a cat stalking over dry leaves, laid it over Damare’s mouth and nose.

Once they were certain the cloth would not slip, they took out a small ceramic pot, which they opened and placed softly on the nightstand, then a strange, yet simple, contraption consisting of a long, stripped ostrich-horse quill, cut open at both ends. The thicker end was neatly trimmed and even; at the other, it was shaped into a point rather reminiscent of a writing-quill. Next, they tugged down the general’s blankets, lifting one of his arms over his head and laying it on his pillow. The armpit, with its unassuming positioning on the body and a large vein running close to the surface, provided a perfect target.

Unsheathing a long, slim stiletto from their belt, they nicked the skin until they were satisfied with the size of the cut. They hadn’t broken the vein itself — to do so would cause major blood loss — but the smaller blood vessels would work just as well.

Sheathing their dagger, Spirit picked up the delicate quill device _(something we use when death is the only mercy we can give,_ said the memory of a voice at the back of their mind), dipping the pointed end into the pot, before placing their lips around the other end and sucking. A thick, dark liquid was drawn into the hollow tube of the feather, visible through it — they stopped just as the quill filled to the halfway point.

Slowly, _cautiously,_ they lifted the quill, stepping forward to press the other end into the small wound. Then, just as painstakingly as before, they blew into the tube, forcing the resinous substance out of the quill and into Damare’s bloodstream.

Spirit let out a quiet sigh of relief. The hard part was over: all that needed to be done now was to clean the wound, ensuring that none of the poison was left visible, and the hair would hide the rest.

And then, once they had restored the room to its previous state, they could return to bed. They need not stay until he died, for every minute they lingered only increased the risk.

They could trust the curare to take effect soon enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, quite a few things to explain for this chapter, I think.
> 
> Yes, that's chloroform on the rag. It was discovered in 1831, so I don't think it's too far-fetched to have it in the Fire Nation, which seems to be undergoing an industrial revolution. Chloroform smells (and tastes) sweet, by the way.
> 
> The poison is, of course, curare. It's a tropical poison, refined from the sap of several plants. I'm not sure how much it would take to kill a human though, so this was kind of a guess. It kills through paralysis, by the way.
> 
> And finally, the feather-syringe is based off two separate references. The first was Christopher Wren's syringe, which was arguably the first working syringe, and was made from a goose quill attached to a small bladder, and injected into a pre-existing wound. The second inspiration was the pipette: before we had bladders to suction liquid up into the pipette, the ends were open, and people had to suck on them to pull the liquid up, just like this! Of course, this meant you had to be really careful if you were working with dangerous chemicals, such as, for example, concentrated acids. I shudder to imagine how many accidents happened when people weren't paying close enough attention.

**Author's Note:**

> Digitalis, which is found in foxglove, is used to treat arrhythmia.
> 
> And apparently, foxglove tea tastes spicy. Who knew?


End file.
